Soulmate
by Tuvstarr's lost heart
Summary: In their first life together, she died.
1. Chapter 1

_Soulmate - in their first life together, she died._

 _Just me playing around with different ways to structure a drabble again and a more minimalistic writing style. Faintly inspired by Katharine Kerr's epic fantasy series Deverry, though the fic diverges almost instantly. Currently a one shot but might grow to include non-chronological glimpses of their different lives. Co-posted on Ao3._

 _I would like to express my gratitude towards my wonderful beta reader ZePuKa who has helped rework parts of this fic and been my sounding board. I can strongly recommend her work, so please do pop over to her corner and see for yourself._

 _Disclaimer, still doesn't own Akatsuki no Yona._

 _ **Warning:**_ _As with most reincarnation scenarios, the fic does include brief descriptions of controversial relationships, if this does not suit, please stop now._

* * *

They belonged together, two petals of the same thorn-clad flower.

People marvelled over how a couple, so fundamentally different, could be so perfectly in sync.

She was scarlet and so petite, she almost seemed fragile. She was purity and innocence. Like the first flower of spring, she greeted the warm rays melting the snow with joy. She was gentle and kind, but with a fire beneath her lavender eyes that bore witness of determination, endurance, and sorrow.

Her lover was moulded of sapphire and obsidian - sharp, angular and sarcastic, but sincere and loyal to a fault. He was proud, strong, and held more than a moderate portion of arrogance, like the mighty glaive he effortlessly wielded.

They were inseparable, like two roots entwined. That is, until that fateful day when death snatched her away from him, and he was powerless to do nothing but watch it happen. It was meant as a lesson in humility, though one he refused to take.

Crushed by his grief, he cursed the gods and vowed to find her. He was heard, and his challenge accepted. A new cycle was created on that day, a cycle binding crimson and raven together through eons of pain, longing, and a long-forgotten promise to one day find her again.

…

In their second she was reincarnated as his mother, and how he could have laughed at the irony. In their last life, his actions had killed her, and in this, she brought him life. She had always been the better half, the unflawed one.

She didn't recognise him.

…

In their third life, they never met.

…

In their fourth, he was an old man when she finally ran into him. She had barely reached adulthood when they met in the market place, and the sharp jolt of pain in her chest confirmed her suspicions when she looked into those milky white, unseeing eyes. Eyes she could have sworn once held the colour of the sky.

He didn't remember.

…

In the fifth they walked past each other on the street, and the gods almost took pity on them- almost.

…

In the next life they were brothers in arms. They lived a life always watching over and looking after the other. It wasn't until he found his best friend laying still, cold and stiff in a growing puddle of crimson that almost matched his hair, he recognised him. Finally he understood the instant attraction and their peculiar bond.

Once again, too late.

…

In their seventh life, he was too late. She was married, with two beautiful daughters of her own. He watched those lavender eyes gazing down on her family with joy, and he turned around.

She deserved happiness.

…

In their eighth, she found a sister soul and her love was so strong, it pained her. Her sister did not understand though; she was searching for someone else, a man she once met in a dream.

The raven haired woman beside her despaired, for no matter how much she tried, she could not convince her scarlet companion that the man she was looking for was right in front of her.

…

In their ninth, they found each other, and for the briefest of times they were reunited, happy… Then the current era, a time of war, tore them apart.

…

Their tenth life ended almost like their first, though this time it was his turn to leave too early.

Bitterness engulfed her.

…

And so ages arose, briefly breathing before fading into nothingness again. Lifetimes were spent and wasted, like a spilled bottle of the sweetest perfume. Time moved forward without any regard to the separated lovers as the gods watched and laughed.

Sometimes they remembered.

Sometimes they recognised each other.

Sometimes they didn't.

…

Then one day, when he was just a little boy, this time reincarnated as the adopted son of a mighty general, they met again. He wore clothes of a different cut and had feathers in his hair, but even so, she instantly recognised her long lost companion, and he felt the burden of a hundred lifetimes fade when she threw herself into his arms.

This time, they would set things right.

Come war, illness, or even the gods themselves, nothing would separate them.

The princess and the general had once again found each other.


	2. A glimmer of recognition, part 1

_In the fifth, they walked past each other on the street, and the gods almost took pity on them- almost._

 _..._

 _AN:_ _This chapter is Beta-read by the fabulous Zepuka. Many thanks and bows to her!_

 _I hope you enjoy!_

* * *

He woke up shuddering, having dreamt of something significant: a shapeless form coated in scarlet and violet. Though the more he tried to recall the meaning of the dream, to attach a distinct feature to the vague image left behind, the more it slipped away. His subconsciousness teasing him with an elusive promise of something important that rapidly drifted off into oblivion.

Sitting up and noting that the first faint, crimson light of dawn had already appeared in the sky, the young man's eyes widened. He had to get to the smithy and start the forge before dawn fully broke, or else his master would surely have his hide. Rushing to clothe himself, he disregarded the tenuous dream in favour of focusing his attention on the chores of the day.

As the day progressed, he soon forgot everything about the dream, and the heavy labour helped shake the uneasy feeling that had haunted him since he woke up. By the end of the day he was sweaty, worn, and longed for nothing more than a warm meal and a pint of ale. Before he could rest though, he had been ordered to run one last errand. His master sent him to the mansion of the local lord with a delivery, an elaborately decorated long-sword. It was a terrifying weapon, sharper than broken glass and gracefully lethal, specially ordered by the lord himself.

Hurrying down the busy streets of the capitol to a part of town he rarely ventured, he manoeuvred himself across the masses and dodged both horses and humans rushing past. Taking a step to the side to avoid being trampled by an impatient rider, he accidentally bumped into a young girl.

She was carrying a basket of laundry and the impact caught her off-guard, making her stumble and drop it all on the dusty ground.

Apologising for accidentally knocking her over, he bent down to help her pick up the now soiled sheets, but stopped halfway, momentarily stunned by the way her hair glowed crimson in the warm afternoon sunlight. While he couldn't pin down why, the striking colour of her hair reminded him of the elusive dream that had startled him out of his slumber that morning.

For a moment their eyes locked.

She had the most striking, lavender eyes, and something screamed inside of him, clawing, and tearing, and demanding something of him that he could not decipher.

He saw it reflected in her eyes, the recognition, the confusion, and the questions.

Then it was gone.

The odd sensation of Deja vu vanished the instant it had appeared, and the meeting left him stumped and perplexed.

She picked up the basket and left, quickly blending in with the crowd in the street, and he didn't follow.


	3. A glimmer, part 2 Fifth life

_In the fifth, they walked past each other on the street, and the gods almost took pity on them- almost._

 _Second, and last, part of the 'fifth life scenario,' in which we get a glimpse into her thoughts._

* * *

She woke up that morning like she always did, by the old rooster's crowing signalling another day's beginning. Dressing herself, she moved to the small kitchen area and began preparing breakfast. When her parents passed away in the plague, leaving nothing behind but a small shanty that kept the worst of the chill at bay during the cold winters, she had been forced to learn to fend for herself.

After finishing breakfast, she headed out to a pub nearby where she worked as a maid. By the end of the day she was asked to take a pile of wet laundry across the road to where their sister-pub resided, to hang it up in the other pub's slightly more spacious backyard.

Crossing the street with the heavy basket in her arms, she suddenly felt someone bumping into her so forcefully that she stumbled and fell forward.

Picking herself up off the ground, she looked up to see a young man that now tried to apologise and help her, and something happened.

She couldn't explain it.

She had never seen him before, and yet she could have sworn she recognised him. His eyes, bluer than the sky, those lips, now slightly parted into a surprised 'o', his whole presence, it all seemed so incredibly familiar.

She _had_ seen him before.

She had _known_ him.

Then the moment ended, and it was all lost.

The recognition faded quicker than it had appeared, and what was left made her feel uneased, a queasy knot forming in her stomach.

She had never met him before; he was just a stranger that had bumped into her on the street. Her fantasies were running away with her. Standing in the middle of the street with someone she didn't know suddenly seemed entirely wrong.

She stood up, mumbled a feeble 'thank you', and bolted.

Just before ducking into the open door across the street, she allowed herself one quick look behind, heart pounding frantically in her chest, but there was no sight of him.


	4. To leave something behind

So… I know I had this on Hiatus, but ever since I decided that I wouldn't write anything for a while and take a break, my mind has been bombarded with smaller fics so... I do hope you enjoy this next installation.

* * *

To leave something behind

 _In their seventh life, he was too late. She was married, with two beautiful daughters of her own. He watched those lavender eyes gazing down on her family with joy, and he turned around._

…

He had been roaming the countryside for years now, haunted by memories that weren't his.

He kept himself afloat by taking any kind of labour he could find when his travel funds were dipping a bit low, anything that could keep him going for a few more months, and then leaving as soon as he could.

He was searching for her.

A woman he had never met, whom he wasn't even sure existed, but whom he could not stop thinking about. He knew that the memories didn't belong to him, at least not in this life, but he couldn't get them out of his head no matter what he did. They egged him on with ferocious demand, and he was powerless to do anything but obey.

So he kept searching, because even though she was nothing but a dream, with each passing day that went by without her, he felt himself falling apart just a little bit more…

As he approached the next village up ahead, he found a carriage on the side of the road. It was the type that farmers would use to transport their produce, and as he got closer, the simply-clothed man bending down next to the left-front wheel confirmed his suspicions.

His heart skipped a beat when a woman peeked up from behind the tyre of the wagon.

It was her.

He knew it as soon as he saw her. He could never have been mistaken. The memories were crystal clear. This was the woman that had haunted his mind both night and day since before he could remember.

So struck by this sudden realisation was he, that he almost missed the man calling out to him.

"Hey there, 'scuse me, but would ya' mind giving me a hand? I accidentally ran over a rock that cracked the tyre, and my wife isn't quite strong enough to help me change it…"

Wife… She was married.

The universe was laughing at him, and he could almost hear the man whose memories he carried cry out in despair.

"Um, yeah sure," he could hear himself promising, because even though he should have turned around right there and then, he couldn't.

She was looking at him, and he needed to come closer to her, if only for a moment. Every fibre of his being was screaming at him to _do something_.

Then she broke the spell by addressing the two children peeking over the rail of the carriage, telling them to stay where they were, they would be on the road again soon enough.

How could he have missed her young girls? Well, he knew why, her appearance had shocked him so that he lost all senses. It was foolish of him to allow himself to become so engulfed, and yet again, he knew that he could never have resisted.

They offered him lunch as a thank you, inviting him into their house with the explanation that they didn't live far from there. They were on their way back home from the village morning-market, and although he knew that he should not accept, her warm smile made him waver, again. It was bittersweet, this notion and memory he was carrying.

He had never been able to deny her anything.

In this life, or any other.

While the lunch had been simple, it was well-made and quite enjoyable. Even if everything evidently was as it should be in a family, the knowledge couldn't completely erase the bittersweet taste of loss he gained from seeing her looking down on her two beautiful daughters with joy dancing in her eyes, and exchange a quick, loving peck on the cheek with her husband before they sat down to eat.

He was too late, and he gritted his teeth and accepted his fate despite wanting nothing more than to selfishly claim her as his own.

She was happy and she deserved every ounce of joy this life could give. He would never dream of interfering with that.

Once lunch was over, they thanked him once again for the help with the tyre and he offered his thanks for the food and explained that it was time for him to continue his travels.

As he stepped out the door, she followed him.

Their eyes met, and something in the way she looked at him, he knew that she too remembered, perhaps not everything, perhaps not as much as he did, but she recognised him. No words were exchanged; there were none that could convey what he carried inside, instead they shared a simple nod and a forced, lopsided smile, and then he turned around.

When he left, he headed straight to the town ahead, to the nearest bar.

For although he was not a man usually prone to drinking, he desperately craved the hazy salvation found at the bottom of a bottle, needing a single night during which he didn't have to relive someone else's memories and the haunted anguish of a man long gone.


	5. Junction, a place or point where two met

AN: This chapter will be slightly different from previous chapters as it will involve their current lives. I have planned to write small snippets which border on canon-compliant in between their past ones but are reworked to fit into the soulmate AU. I am also going to start referring to them by their names as—in this life—it's what they are named.

* * *

 _Then one day, when he was just a little boy, this time reincarnated as the adopted son of a mighty general, they met again. He wore clothes of a different cut and had feathers in his hair, but even so, she instantly recognised her long-lost companion, and he felt the burden of a hundred lifetimes fade when she threw herself into his arms._

 _This time, they would set things right._

 _Come war, illness, or even the gods themselves, nothing would separate them._

 _The princess and the general had once again found each other._

 _..._

The first time they met—when they were just little children—he thought he would actually collapse under the relief of finding her.

A paradox perhaps, isn't relief meant to bring a sensation of being as light as a feather and the loss of grief beget a feeling of euphoric elation? For him, it wasn't so. For him, that first meeting overwhelmed him so to the degree that he broke down in tears. Though they were tears of joy, they carried more weight than he could find words for, and so he didn't try. He simply held her, and let himself be held by her. He had finally found her, and now that he had done so, he swore to never let her out of his sight again.

Being a child himself, he hadn't accounted for reality.

While the adults had found it adorable, the children's fevering proclamations that they were never going to be separated again, they had refused to listen and so after less than a week had gone by, despite their insistent protests, he was sent home again with his grandfather.

It didn't stop them though. He had recently learnt to write. A tedious lesson his grandfather had insisted upon, and while she had yet to fully master the skill, her mother was currently teaching her to both read and write. Her scribbles could admittedly perhaps still not be described as adeptly painted. They could, however, at least be classified as decipherable, and that was good enough for him. So they wrote to each other, as often as the postal route allowed, and as soon as his grandfather was to travel to the capital, he requested to join.

Then one day they received news that the queen had fallen ill, and before his grandfather could even finish the sentence, he had left the room to pack.

They reached the capital too late. The queen passed away two days before their arrival, and her daughter had locked herself in her room. The king told the raven-haired boy whom he knew his daughter held such fondness for that she had refused every meal that the servants had brought up for her. According to the servants she had barely accepted anything to drink either. The king had tried talking to her through the heavy palace door, bribing her, bargaining, begging and even commanding her to step out of her room, an act he found highly uncomfortable but desperation pushed him to pursue dire measures.

Hearing how distressed she was made his chest ache, and he left the adults to converse on their own, rushing to her chambers and knocking on her door with feverish haste.

"Leave me alone, I don't want to see anyone," was heard from inside the room in response to the knocking but he would not give up that easily.

"It's me, Hak. We just arrived. I get that you don't want to talk to anyone else, but please don't shut me out?" He asked, and if his tone conveyed a hint of begging, then it didn't bother him.

When the door opened ajar, just enough for the child princess to peek out through the tiny gap, he took in her appearance. He noted her crimson locks being even more unruly than usual and her ordinarily so bright sparkly eyes having lost their shine and instead sporting red rims and dark circles underneath, clearly highlighting the exhaustion her whole being radiated. This was his princess, and by all the gods, she had endured more sorrow through all her lives than one being should ever have to endure. He couldn't stand the idea of her being cheerless. This time, however, he could make a difference. He could be there for her.

Slipping his fingers in through the small gap between the door and frame, he bent it open enough for him to squeeze himself in, and she didn't protest. He then, without a moment's hesitation took her in his arms just like the first time they had met, and this time their roles reversed. She was the teary-eyed one, and he was the one murmuring comforting nonsense in her ears.

This was the start of something new, a junction of fate, and they would finally be allowed to see both sorrow and happiness side by side.

Together in a new dawn.


	6. Forgotten

AN: I was in the mood for listening to old Eurovision songs now that it was that time again, and after putting on one of my absolute favourites, Greta Salóme & Jónsi's - _Never Forget_ (Iceland 2012), I realised it was the perfect song for Soulmate, and especially this life.

* * *

 _In their fourth, he was an old man when she finally ran into him. She had barely reached adulthood when they met in the marketplace, and the sharp jolt of pain in her chest confirmed her suspicions when she looked into those milky white, unseeing eyes. Eyes she could have sworn once held the colour of the sky._

 _He didn't remember._

 _..._

"Child," he said with a rusty chuckle, "it's not that I don't hear you. Sure my sight might be lost, but these old ears haven't failed me yet. I don't think you can hear yourself, though. Put those mad thoughts to rest. You're a young woman, and darn if I'm not flattered, but us being some sort of star-crossed lovers? Are you sure you didn't hit your head, young lass?" he teased, and she bit her lip in frustration.

It wasn't that she was trying to seduce him, gnarly old goat, but she couldn't give up without at least a try to convince him. Of what she wasn't exactly sure, but she knew she couldn't give up.

He was the man who had haunted her dreams since she was a child. He had even visited her in something akin to a fever vision in broad daylight once. She knew exactly who he was, or perhaps more correctly, who he had once been.

A brave warrior and a loyal lover.

So loyal that he had once defied both time and death so that they might be together in another life.

A life, a sacrifice that was now wasted as they were reborn in different times.

Her whole inner self was screaming in frustration. Oh, the irony of finding him here in the market-place, three times her age.

In this life, he was a simple fishmonger. Sitting on a whittled wooden stool right there in front of her smiling kindly, he was still far beyond her reach no matter how much she wished it wasn't so.

The knowledge she carried threatened to crush her.

It was not fair! How cruel could the gods be to create this scenario? It would have been better if she had never met him.

Was this the punishment they were given for daring to defy the skies and ask for what was rightfully theirs?

She took his hand in one last desperate measure and felt his bony, of age wrinkled and bent fingers, squeeze hers back when she begged him one more time to remember. "Listen, I know it sounds insane but we have a connection. Please, I beg you, can't you feel it? Can you not remember the ties we share? I'm not asking you to be mine, only to remember our destiny," she asked, and the lump in her throat grew when he shook his head in sympathy.

"Young lass, you shouldn't bother yourself with an old man like me. Go out and live your life. You have your future ahead of you," he smiled. "Mine is behind me, and trust me, lass, it has been an interesting one, but I would never want to tie a child down to this old shell of mine. I can hear in your voice that you are kind and caring, and I think you will lead a wonderful life."

She swallowed and gave his hands one last squeeze to let him know that she had understood, before apologising for bothering him and turning to leave.

Another life wasted.

Another life having gone by without a true reunion.

A sorrow she couldn't shake.


End file.
